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it so badly, but I didn’t want to come off rude. I figured I’d save that
inquiry for a face–to–face conversation on a third date or something,
but we never even made it to date one.
Another gentleman went to the lengths of calling me on the
telephone and having a lackluster conversation amid a couple weeks
of texting. After we hung up, we both texted each other how sexy the
other’s voice was. We may not have had much to talk about, but when
he was talking, I liked his sensual voice, each syllable delivering a
new sexy scenario to my horny, overactive imagination. It’s
interesting how someone’s voice can really enhance his hotness or
completely turn one off in Janice’s case (remember the
anesthesiologist?) The point is, I never met the guy, and shortly after
our phone call, we ceased to communicate.
I’m not sure what was happening, what it was that didn’t warrant
continuing the conversation. If I had to guess, I’d infer that it had
something to do with work–life balance just not allowing these men to
follow through. These were men with legitimate careers (well, most
of them *cough* Man Child), and I understand the imbalance that
sometimes occurs, especially in this country. I began wondering if
American culture was actively playing a part in my inability to land a
solid connection. You know, that whole mentality that we have to
work long, hard hours to ever amount to anything, an attitude that
values workaholics over maintaining healthy balanced relationships
with our loved ones?

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Or, perhaps their options were so endless, they couldn’t decide,
nor did they want to, on one person. It’s like going to a diner hungry
and looking at a menu that’s ten pages long, and three of those pages
list every different kind of omelet you can imagine. Yes, I just likened
myself to an egg dish typically consumed during breakfast hours.
I’m not entirely innocent in participating in this cultural behavior
either. However, in my defense, I followed my instinct on most
occasions. In one such case, I made plans to go play pool with a guy
as a first date, and the week and a half leading up to it consisted of
minimal chatting or getting to know each other and a lot of gifs. I’m
talking “good morning” gifs with teddy bears and fucking animated
rainbows – all from him. What the fuck? I’m a morning person, but
I’ve never even met you, so please don’t send me fucking cartoon
images to wake up to until at least date number four, and even then,
you better hope I’ve had my coffee. By the time our date rolled
around, I canceled on him in the morning after opening a gif of Fuzzy
Wuzzy and a smiling, personified sunshine.
Another guy made it very clear that he just wanted some pussy. I
entertained the conversation for a bit because, well, he was hot, and it
was during a time when I was particularly sexually deprived. In other
words, I just wanted some D. He once texted me mid–afternoon with
a brief description of what our first date could be like, followed by a
steamy photo of the shadow of his figure behind a shower door, clearly
aroused and well endowed. He offered to pick me up on his
motorcycle, and then I guess the world would be our oyster? Or my

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clit would be his pearl? He was a bona fide Bad Boy, and I resisted.
Please pat me on the back because that resistance was no easy feat.
Over a year later, Bad Boy unexpectedly popped up on an episode
of The Walking Dead that I was watching before trying to connect
with me via every social app I’m a member of.
@MotorcycleBadBoy requested to follow you.
Hard pass.
And that’s not his actual Instagram handle, people, so don’t go
stalking whosever this might very well be. I literally just made it up.
The non–follow–through is one of the strangest things about the
online dating experience. Like, hey, I swiped right because I
obviously liked what I saw and read. So let’s flirt inconsistently and
never meet until one day soon, we never text each other again, or in
Motorcycle Bad Boy’s case, until you social media stalk me even
though I rejected you. My world is not your oyster, baby.
Why were these men even on the dating apps if they didn’t have
the time or energy to invest in their personal life? I call this
phenomenon Pixelated Passion – no relationship progression beyond
the initial exchange. Sure, I could have followed up on more than a
handful of these encounters, but suggesting meeting in person seems
like a pretty straightforward follow–through. Am I right? Or, am I
right?
However, I was certainly not going to chase anyone. This was
part of the commitment I’d made to myself when I began dating
anyone after Anthony. Life is too short. If I’m going to run after

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something, the man will have to either run with me, next to me, toward
the winery, to the beach or away from the body we just buried together
because, well, ride or die and all.
Some close friends of mine were simultaneously doing the online
dating thing. We would share stories and many laughs over our
encounters. For example, Ryan, that childhood friend of mine, went
on a Bumble date with a strikingly beautiful woman that he swore
“came right out of Wakanda!”
Ryan, a mid–thirties Black man from the Midwest, was ecstatic
about his date. When they sat down at a bustling bar, she immediately
said, “First off, I’m a Trump supporter. Let me tell you why.”
“No need,” Ryan cut her off, stood up, and left.
I couldn’t blame him. I would have done the same thing. I
frequently asked if potential suitors were Trump supporters before I
even agreed to meet. But, hey, at least Ryan made it past pen pals! If
the online dating apps did one positive thing, they accelerated the
dating game.
In James’ case, he once went on a date with a woman who texted
him just as they were about to meet at a restaurant:
You’re paying for dinner, right?
He still met her for dinner, and he still paid. It took a while for
my mouth to close after his tale of the jaw–dropping audacity.

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Let’s talk about effort again. If you can’t take the time to fill out
your profile, what’s to make me believe you’re going to take the effort
to maintain a relationship? In addition, if all of your answers and
photos are funny without even a hint of seriousness, what’s to make
me believe that you’re going to take a relationship seriously? If
everything is a joke to you, then I must conclude that our relationship
will be, too.
Here’s a shortlist of some of the dating profile/dating app faux
pas I ran into:
• A guy repeatedly spelled my name with an “E” even though
it was clearly written across the screen in front of him. L–I–
N–D–S–A–Y
• A guy who ended his profile with “Let’s taco ‘bout it.”
• A dude who once wrote that he was looking for “a woman
who isn’t going to act like she’s interested one day then act
like a bitch the next” right into his profile.*
• A handful of guys would initiate a conversation and then not
respond to my response.
• A self–proclaimed “nerd other nerds want to be.”
• A guy invited me to join him on a heist to steal Van Gogh’s
Starry Night from the MOMA. Apparently, he’d been
“planning it for ten years.”
*Someone’s been burned. I’m genuinely curious how many women actually chose
to swipe right on that.

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I hesitated on swiping right on the taco guy since tacos are my
favorite food. When I laughed and debated with my Very Pretty friend
about this, she quipped, “He’ll tell you you’re pretty and feed you
tacos.” She knew me so well! Alas, I swiped left.
Call it deductive reasoning or just a means of weeding out the
subpar from the superior or sifting through the crap to get to
something real as my dear friend, Jacquie, put it. Jacquie was also
dabbling in the online dating scene. She believed that we all get to a
certain point where no one is going to “disturb our lives.” Deep down,
something innate in all of us will not allow any disruption, no matter
how attractive or promising. This was definitely some food for
thought.
What will immediately eliminate someone from consideration for
a first date? If their dating profile only has photos of them wearing
sunglasses. I will swipe left faster than you can say “swipe right!”